


The Wreckage of You

by TR33G1RL



Series: Claim Your Victory, For I Am Beaten [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, but i'm not sure what to tag this time, but no sex, kinda spicy, the legendary dumbass, y'all know who it is, ya gorl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 12:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TR33G1RL/pseuds/TR33G1RL
Summary: Shanks has believed himself to be a beaten man. He has believed Buggy has needed to claim his victory over him. But Buggy has other ideas; one last challenge, and if Shanks wins, he gets Buggy's heart. One final battle, and if Shanks wins, he takes it all. But if Shanks wins, does that mean Buggy loses? That's for Buggy to decide.





	The Wreckage of You

“What a scene! What a show!”

The slow clapping that echoes off of the walls of Shanks’ cabin jolts makes the redhead jolt upright with wide eyes. His heart rate speeds up to an unsteady, rapid pace as his eyes dart around the room. It couldn’t be… God, it  _ can’t _ be…!

But it is.

Of course it is.

Buggy has always been able to find Shanks at his worst moments. It's a talent he has that always leaves Buggy with a smug smirk and Shanks with an embarrassed and ashamed flush from his ears to his neck. 

Of course Buggy would find Shanks like this, his body afloat in a sea of cum-covered clothes and empty bottles with not a single drop to offer. Of course he would. Shanks barely holds back a groan as forces himself to sit up and carefully swing his legs over the side of the bed so he can face Buggy properly, as if he has any dignity.

That’s not to say he doesn’t. He does. He’s a proud captain and mentor, he’s a great swordsman and one of the best pirates of his era. He has dignity.

But not right now. Right now, he’s sitting on a bed full of his own vices and sins and guilty encounters, and he has the fucking  _ nerve _ to look Buggy in the eye. Really, how dare he? He’s professed his love for Buggy so many times, has done it in every way possible - with his voice in person, over a den den mushi, in a letter, on parchment in a bottle that he’s thrown to the currents - but then he went and fell to his temptations. And truly? Truly, those temptations were shit in comparison to the fantasies that Shanks has managed to conjure with his own mind.

Shame fills dark brown eyes as Shanks looks up at Buggy and tries to force a smile onto his face. He knows that Buggy sees everything. He sees the underwear and the lingerie on his bed, souvenirs of not-lovers who only love the idea of Shanks. He sees the broken glass surrounding his bed like a ring of salt, keeping the self-destructive demon at bay. He sees the empty bottles without a single drop to their label. He sees all of it, but more than that, he sees inside of Shanks, and he knows - just as he has known for years - that he has brought Shanks to his knees.

“Hey, Buggy,” Shanks says, his voice as rough as if he has swallowed some of the broken glass that surrounds his sanctuary. He knows how he looks; his eyes are dull, his once proud posture is now slouched and tired, and his smile isn’t even  _ close _ to what one could call convincing. But there’s a faint hope in his eyes as he looks over the man he adores. “How long you been standing there?”

Buggy is leaning against the door to his cabin, his arms crossed and one leg bent with his foot pressed flat against his door. His fingers tag against his own arm as he slowly scans Shanks’ cabin with obvious amusement and disgust. A strange combination, but Buggy is a strange man. His hair is pulled back in just a simple ponytail, Shanks notes. He’s always looked good like that.

A loud laugh bubbles forth from Buggy’s painted lips and Shanks loves the noise so much that he doesn’t mind how it hurts his hangover-sensitive eardrums. Buggy finally steps into the room like a lead actor onto a stage; confident and with sure footing and a big smile. His arms fall to his side - just like how they did in his fantasy and Shanks feels himself flush in shame and only slightly lust - as he strides over to stand beside Shanks’ bed. He replicates the first few scenes of Shanks’ fantasy so easily, without having even known the fantasy. 

But, rather than take a seat on Shanks’ bed, he stops at the desk next to Shanks’ bed and pulls out the chair before taking a seat. He crosses his legs, his ankle resting against his knee as he rests his chin in his hand. He looks over Shanks slowly before snorting and rolling his eyes. “Put your cock away, red hair. At least  _ try  _ to look presentable when you have company.” Buggy says as he takes the time to look at the items on Shanks’ desk. It only takes a second of his eyes roaming over the mess of papers and pens and maps before Buggy finds what Shanks fears he will. 

Nimble fingers pick up a single piece of parchment and Buggy’s eyes scan over the words quickly before the clown breaks out into another fit of laughter. He turns the paper around for Shanks to see, as if the taller of the two men doesn’t already know what’s written there. “Another love letter, Shanks? Really?” Buggy scoffs as he disdainfully tosses the paper back onto the pile of half-formed love letters that Shanks has deemed not quite right.

Shanks heeds Buggy’s words and tucks his cock back into his pants as he chuckles, more at his own pathetic self than anything else. “Well, what else did you think it would be? Did you think I’d take up poetry or something?” Shanks asks dryly as he watches Buggy’s eyes move over the vast amounts of scratched out words and rambling sentences and endless confessions of undying love.

“Tch. As if you  _ could _ write a half decent poem.” Buggy retorts and, just for a second, his smirk becomes something softer. In that second, Shanks’ heart aches and he nearly takes a step directly into broken glass as he goes to stand up and move to Buggy’s side. But he quickly catches himself and decides to remain where he’s seated. Buggy notices this and his soft tilt of his lips becomes a smirk again, and even that makes Shanks’ heart beat a loud rhythm against his lungs and ribs. 

Shanks shrugs, a crooked grin on his lips. God, he’s missed Buggy’s sharp words and venomous tongue. “Well, you never know. Maybe I just need the right muse,” He says with a soft but ardent lilt to his deep, scratchy voice. He lets his eyes move over Buggy’s body with a gaze full of adoration and awe. If Shanks’ eyes were his hands, he would be worshiping Buggy’s body with tender, loving caresses and holding onto Buggy like he’d break apart and slip through Shanks’ fingers at any given second.

Buggy cocks an eyebrow and grins mischievously. “The right muse? Are you saying that I’m not your muse in everything you do? Or are you saying I’m not a sufficient muse?” Buggy tilts his head in false curiosity as he watches Shanks scramble for a clever response. His grin dissolves into bright, loud peels of laughter that bounce off the wooden walls.

Shanks  _ does  _ have to give his response, he’ll give Buggy that, but his next words do come to him within a reasonable time for a response. “Oh, you’re a damn fine muse, Buggy,” He says with a light chuckle, “But you’re not a kind one. I just need some encouragement from you, yeah?”

That only makes Buggy laugh harder, his eyes closing as he shakes his head. “Oh, I’m cruel, I know. But I’m not me when I’m not having fun, and I think you prefer me when I’m having fun, too.” Buggy moves to stand and Shanks’ breath catches in anticipation of what the shorter man is going to do next. Buggy always has been unpredictable. But, rather than leaving as he laughs at Shanks’ misery, the clown carefully moves through the field of glass to perch next to Shanks on the edge of his bed. He draws in a soft breath as he turns his head to look at Shanks, who matches his gaze evenly. Buggy lifts a hand to gently cup the back of Shanks’ head. The redhead’s heart damn near stops as Buggy pulls Shanks’ face close to his own. “Though I…  _ suppose _ I could be a bit kinder to you,” Buggy murmurs as his eyes fall half-lidded and his gaze darts to Shanks’ lips in a way that’s too inviting for it to not be an invitation.

Shanks leans even closer, his movements now of his own accord. He moves closer to Buggy, leaning in until their lips are mere centimeters apart. His eyes follow Buggy’s lips as they softly part and exhale soft air between the two of them. Shanks swallows nervously as he asks, “R-Really…? You mean you’re…?” 

His eyes remain locked on Buggy’s red-painted mouth until the soft implication of a kiss suddenly turns into a razor sharp, wicked grin. “Nah!” Buggy laughs, a beautifully cruel sound as he softly pushes Shanks’ head to the side, away from his own. He tilts his head back with laughter as he sees Shanks’ surprised and slightly hurt expression. “Oh, don’t look so pathetic, red hair! After all, you know you like the challenge.” Buggy remarks matter-of-factly as he moves to stand up and walk out of the room. 

Shanks doesn’t know how to respond and goes still, blinking as he tries to process Buggy’s words. Buggy… isn’t outright rejecting him this time? He’s not. He really isn’t. This… This is an invitation if Shanks has ever heard one. An  _ invitation.  _ Well. That certainly puts a spin on the situation.

Buggy strides all the way to the door before turning around to speak to Shanks one more time. “What I’m saying, Shanks, is that if you want me, you’re going to have to prove it. And even if you  _ can _ prove it, you have to convince me to love you back. Think you can do that, red hair, or is that too tall of an order for you?” Buggy asks as he shoots the taller man a sly grin. He shifts his weight to one hip and crosses his arms again as he waits for Shanks response.

Of course, Shanks can be unpredictable, too. And it’s to Shanks’ advantage that Buggy seems to have forgotten that for the moment.

In a split second, Shanks is across the room, his hand on the back of Buggy’s head, fingers tangled in long, blue hair as he drags Buggy in for the kiss he had been denied moments earlier. Their lips clash together messily in a heated, frantic kiss that makes Buggy gasp and his eyes go wide. He wants to push back, but truly… he doesn’t. He wants this one kiss. He wants it to be the way they make this challenge official. But more than that, he wants to give Shanks this little push, this little bit of hope that he can hold dear to his heart and use to fuel him when Buggy is being cruel. He wants Shanks to know that this is the bit of truth at the center of all of his lies.

It’s for these reasons that Buggy is the one to lick across the crevice of Shanks’ lips first. His tongue, as sly and clever as Shanks has always believed, slips inside the heat of Shanks’ mouth the  _ second _ the redhead parts his lips. It curls and rubs along Shanks’ tongue, coaxing it to play-fight, a friendly battle between two not-quite-enemies.

The wet sliding of sensitive muscles draws a soft moan from either one or both of them, they can’t tell which. But the noise is hot, and it makes Buggy a bit weak in the knees. Thankfully, Shanks seems to sense this and he slides his hand from Buggy’s scalp to his neck, down his side before gripping the clown’s hip tightly and pulling their bodies flush together. 

This time, it’s clear that the moan is from Buggy’s throat as his hands come to grab Shanks’ shoulders. It makes a vibrant blush dance across his cheeks as he tilts his head so they can fit together just that little bit better. Their tongues aren’t play-fighting anymore. Now they’re just curling and moving together in a desperate, needy dance that suits both Shanks and Buggy just fine.

To both of their surprise, it’s Shanks who pulls back first. His eyes flutter open to meet the wide open blue eyes of his challenger. He draws in a soft inhale as his lips curl up in a soft but confident grin. “I’m not yet beaten, Buggy. I had believed I was, but it appears my muse is kind and willing to provide me with inspiration, after all. I’m not yet beaten, Buggy. I will win this challenge of yours.”

Now it’s Buggy’s heart that thuds against his insides like a wild beast. His throat goes dry and he can only nod before he rasps, “You know, maybe you’ll be good at poetry after all.”

That makes Shanks laugh and he releases his hold on Buggy as the other man stumbles back. “Well then you can expect more love poetry in my letters. I hope you know that you’ll be hearing from me a lot more now that you’ve gone and given me hope again.”

Buggy chuckles softly as he rolls his eyes. “I expected nothing less. I suppose I’ll go wait for the first call or poem or whatever. Just remember our challenge.”

Shanks winks at the other pirate captain as he grins roguishly. “As if I’d forget. Now go on and go wait. But don’t worry, I’m not going to make you wait for too long.” Buggy laughs again, softer and sweeter than he had earlier as he turns around. But just as his hand is on the door handle, Shanks calls his name again. “Buggy.”

The blue-haired man turns around with a curious hum. “Hm? What is it now?” Just as he gets the question out, a paper airplane is sent flying towards him. Buggy catches it just before it hits him between the eyes. He opens it up and finds only three words on the inside.

_ ‘You’ll be mine.’ _

Buggy laughs again and shakes his head, but he tucks the note into his pocket all the same. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Shanks beams as he says, “I suppose we will.”


End file.
